


Kisses

by IRegretNothingAndEverything



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Just kinda mentioned, Kissing, M/M, anathama and newton are kinda there, and so is shadwell and madam tracy, but they dont play a big part, so they aren't included in the character tags, soft, the cottage they totally got, theyre so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 11:03:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IRegretNothingAndEverything/pseuds/IRegretNothingAndEverything
Summary: Kisses between husbands throughout the years, starting with the first, and, well onwards.





	Kisses

Their first kiss was panicked, rushed, before they switched. Crowley, who had panicked, thinking it would be his last chance to ever kiss Aziraphale, was not actually the person to initiate it. He had attempted, yes, but got so flustered that Aziraphale grabbed him by his tie and kissed him soundly on the mouth. They then had to switch bodies and go to the park, so neither had a chance to be talk on it. 

Their second, of course, was much more successful, taking place in Aziraphale’s book shop, and quickly followed by a third, fourth, fifth, and they lost count soon after that, though Crowley swore it was in the hundreds the next day. Aziraphale didn’t say anything against it, and, when asked directly, said simply they had a lot of time to make up for. 

Neither knew it was their thousandth kiss when they kissed in front of the cottage. Neither noticed, either, that The Them (and Warlock, who was the newest member, and who was trying to get used to The Them in general) slipped into the cottage and pretended that, no, Warlock’s nanny and gardener were not kissing on the porch like they were going to die. It was easier to ignore, after Warlock showed them the stolen keys to the Bentley. 

They shared small kisses here and there on busy days, when Crowley sat outside and tended so carefully to his garden, and Aziraphale sat inside and resorted old books, or when The Them stopped by the cottage, small brushes of lips against lips in passing as they went about their day, separate but still together. 

Still, sometimes they stopped for a time, and curled up on their little couch in front of the telly, snuggled together in pajamas, sometimes with The Them, and Newton and Anathema (And their child, but Aziraphale wasn’t about to tell them she was pregnant when she didn't seem to realize it yet) and sometimes Sergeant Shadwell and Madam Tracy. When everyone was there, piled into the room, they would cook, make a day of it, laughing with each other and beaming with their friends. 

When it was just them, however, Crowley would lay across Aziraphale’s chest, and stare up at him, eyes uncovered and wide, and Aziraphale would breathe in the love that Crowley let loose with every breath, and their lips would meet, and every time, they swore, it was perfect.


End file.
